Post ForgetMeKnot Story
by lotsofbrolly
Summary: It is both a sad time for Steed and Emma, and here are their thoughts after her leaving Steed.
1. Default Chapter

Emma's thoughts  
  
It was a few weeks after the worst moment of my life. The moment I left him, my elegant ex-lover, standing there. When I gazed into his eyes that final time, flooding with emotion I could see how much he was hurting. I was just as emotional as he was, but I had to, I was returning to Peter, I had to leave. It was a terrible mistake, one that has plagued me over and over in my mind. But I thought that this moment would never come, but it has. Peter returning to me was surprising, exciting but I also felt the guilt and pain of leaving Steed. I couldn't nearly imagine how bad he was feeling, worse than me presumably. He had found out about Peter's homecoming in the newspaper, and I hadn't even attempted to give him an explanation, sometime to mull it over in his mind, just said goodbye, and left. But I knew that he cared about me too deeply perhaps, but I knew he loved me, and I still feel the same about him. Even when I'd left him, I tried not to think about having left him altogether, but I still loved him. It hurt me. As I lay in my, our bed, Peter sleeping beside me I felt more alone now than I had ever felt before. Steed was not a part of me anymore, he made me whole, and without him I felt nothing. Even after years of being alone without Peter, in my mind I felt as if I should be happy that he had returned, but in my heart, it feels as if I'm trapped not able to feel anything, without Steed I felt worthless and empty. But deep down I think Peter knew this, he knew and was too proud not to ask. He knew of my relationship I'd had in his absence, I could tell by the way he looked at me, the guilt I felt and the pain. I'd left Steed standing there and returned to my husband, I could feel my heart beating as tears formed in my eyes, at the memory of what I'd done only a few weeks ago. How could I have been so thoughtless?  
  
The day she left, and Steed's thoughts.  
  
It took Steed a cup of her favourite tea and that was it, he simply asked for Miss King to leave as subtly as he could.  
  
Yawning as he said, "I'm terribly sorry, but it has been an awfully long couple of days. And I must catch up on my sleep Miss King, if you don't mind?"  
  
He indicated the door as she rose up from the chair in his kitchen.  
  
"Not at all Steed".  
  
She knew that this wasn't the real reason, she had seen it in his eyes the moment she'd walked in, and she could see it again lodged behind grey eyes trying to hide his pain through his barrier of gentlemanliness, Mrs Peel's leaving was the reason, and she knew it. As she left, Steed closed his large, pale green apartment door behind her. He turned and pressed his back against the door and sighed. His tears broke their way through as he slowly sunk to the carpeted floor, and simply cried. He sat there weeping like a child, who had just had his favourite toy taken away from him. He sat there leaning back against the door, his hands cradled his streaming, tearful face, his elbows were neatly supported by his knees. He felt hurt, not by the fact she'd left him that he understood, it was the fact that he would never see or be with her again. His heart ached for the first time. He felt as though he couldn't stop, his emotions ran through him like a drug. He needed something to take away his pain, something strong. He slowly rose from his crouched position, and walked over to where his liquor stood in their glass decanters. Lifting the Brandy he poured the reddish brown liquid into a glass and gulped its contents straight down without thought. He poured himself another, and paced the floor, thoughts whirling around in his head, he drained the glass a second time, then headed back towards the decanters, he poured another, and drank its contents again. He became more angrier and uptight, creases formed across his brow, and he threw the glass down onto his electric fire. Its glass pieces scattered around the floor, and he walked over towards the fire, he placed his trembling hand across his forehead, as he broke down into an uncontrollable state, of emotions.  
  
He kept seeing her face, hearing her voice, and feeling the touch of her smooth skin. He had to get away, had to get her out of his mind. But he couldn't and didn't know how. He hunted for the Bentley's keys in his grey breast waistcoat pocket, and forgot about his bowler, as he stormed out of his apartment, the door slammed shut behind him. He started the engine, and sped off down his cobbled street. He found himself turning the Bentley into 'her' Street without thought, he brought the Bentley to a halt. And raised his head up towards her window, he knew that it was a mistake to fall in love, but he also knew it was a mistake now to try and claim her back. She was married, and she had returned to her presumably dead husband. He couldn't do anything about it, it was done over. He tried to shake away his tears, and he started the Bentley up again, in a heartbroken, semi-drunken state he headed back through the streets of London. Fog and traffic. He looked at that empty seat beside him, remembering her sitting there with her special smile, he could hear her laugh, see her hair blowing in the wind as it usually did when they travelled. But now it was empty, as empty as his heart was, she was the one that made him whole, made him feel young and alive. Now she was gone, he wiped away the stream of tears down his face and turned the Bentley its usual route back to his apartment. As he parked the Bentley, he saw it was getting dark, this was the time they were usually together, either at a French musical, expensive restaurant, or back at his or her apartment. He climbed the stairs of towards the flat, and unlocked the door, and headed straight for the liquor decanters again. He poured the liquid into another glass, and gulped in down.  
  
The thought of her stretched out on his leather sofa entered his mind as he looked at the empty sofa, he saw her face, his eyes closed trying to savour the moment. He lifted the glass to his lips and sipped at its strong flavour, hoping it would take away his pain further, but he was to emotional, too angry, too sober in his mind, to care about anything but her. He should have stopped her from leaving, should have told her how much he cared about her. Should have done something, but he was too proud to stop her, after all she was married, he didn't own her, but Oh! How much he wanted to be with her now!  
  
She was just as surprised as he was when she entered the room,  
  
'Trust him to make a dramatic reappearance' her words circled his mind.  
  
And that final kiss she gave him, he could still feel her warm breath on his face and her lips on his cheek, her hand on his tie, the look in her eyes, the tears that were there. Tears slowly ran down his cheeks and he raised his hand to his forehead, rubbing at his newly acquired headache.  
  
He walked over to his desk, and opened the lower drawer; under it was a secret draw. He lifted the panel upwards, and inside it was their photo album of their trip to Paris for her Birthday. He lifted it out, and rested it on his wooden oak desk.  
  
He walked over to the liquor table and poured himself another glass of Brandy; already the decanter was half empty. He lifted the decanter up along with his glass and placed it beside his red leather chair. He picked up the photo album from the desk and slumped into his red leather chair. Already his eyes were filling up with emotion, as he would see her face. Picking up the Brandy filled Waterford Glass, he sipped at it, as he opened the album. His memories and thoughts of her were circling in his mind, he had the photo album perched on his knee, as he turned the plastic film covered pages, he gazed at their portraits of their happier times. He found one photograph that stuck out in his mind, one he'd taken by the Seine River at Monmartche, the moon shone and its glistening, jewelled ripples of the rivers motions reflected in her auburn hair. He gently caressed the image of her face; her smiling portrait made him react to her and grinned sorrowfully, while tears formed in his eyes. He remembered that moment well, the moment when their lips met each other, and kissed. It was the most romantic time they had together; they could be together without fear of hiding their love from others.  
  
He did not care how unprofessional it was to cry, even over a woman. He who'd never shed a tear when he was shot or injured badly, but now he cried, he cried long, deeply and emotionally. He felt as thought he'd lost a part of himself, in a way he had. She'd been all he thought of, had dreamed of and wanted, but now she was gone. Gone but not forgotten, as he knew she would always be in his heart. 


	2. Post Forget Me Knot Chapter Two

Emma's thoughts that night  
  
It was a little over one o'clock, when Emma still lay there in her bed, their bed, with Peter. She was not alone anymore, but now she felt more alone than she had ever felt in her life. She seemed to be lost in her own emotions of Steed; she tried not to cry, to make a noise, to wake her sleeping contented husband. But she couldn't take it any longer; tears formed in her eyes as she carefully slipped out of her bed, and walked over to the window. The moon shone through the white curtains, as she held one open and gazed out into the night. A stray tear rolled down her cheek, as she could feel her heart beat faster, as she looked up at the moon's crest, and remembered one moment they spent together in Monmartche, by the river. She could still feel him, the scent of him, the touch of him, and his voice. The remark he made to her, as he whispered in her ear:  
  
"tis the moon that shines at night, but tis my heart that lights up every time I'm near you"  
  
She remembered the kiss that followed, their long and romantic kiss that seemed to last a lifetime; how she wished she was still there with him, as she gently whispered his name, 'Steed'. Her eyes swelled with emotions as she made her way to the bathroom. She closed the door trying not to wake Peter, and sat on the toilet seat and cried, long and deep, tears streamed down her face as her feelings could no longer be controlled. She heard the rustles of bedclothes as her husband woke, she could hear his footsteps coming closer to the bathroom door. As she wiped away her tears, she flushed the toilet, opened the door, and walked past Peter and returned to bed, pulling the covers up and around her as she tried to hide away her reddened, swollen eyes. Peter simply closed the bathroom door behind him. And she tried to sleep.  
  
Steed's thoughts that morning  
  
It was 8:30am and still he sat there, red eyed and deeply hurt, the photo album still perched on his knee, his memories and thoughts of her were replaying over in his mind. The pieces of the Brandy glass lay were they were thrown last night in sheer emotional frustration.  
  
Suddenly the telephone began to whirl, Steed didn't even flinch, just ignored it until it rang off. His eyes burned, his mouth dry, he still could not get over the fact he would never see her again. He wondered if she was feeling the same sense of loss he was feeling? But he hoped she would be okay, that she would be happy. The phone rang for the second time, this time it rang non-stop, as if the caller new he was in, and wanted him to answer it. Steed made no intention of talking to anyone today; he wasn't in any fit state to see anyone let alone talk to them as well. It was a little over 8:45am when a knock came at Steed's door, Steed didn't even indicate that there was someone waiting to see him, he just sat there, and stared into his empty glass. Suddenly the door flew open, it was Mother, Rhonda was pushing him into the expensive apartment. Mother noticed the broken glass pieces on the floor near to the electric fire.  
  
'Leave us alone. We need to talk.'  
  
Mother told the tall, blonde, quiet girl. She nodded slightly to him, and left closing the red door behind her.  
  
Mother wheeled himself over to where Steed was trying to get some recognition from him, he snapped his fingers, while gently, but forcefully calling his name.  
  
'Steed, Steed old boy. Are you ok? It's Mother. John?' Mother asked him quizzically  
  
Steed looked up, there was pain in his eyes as he said, 'Do I look ok!?'  
  
'No, you look.well you look?' Mother hesitantly tried to think of something to reply with.  
  
'What? Ridiculous, stupid, hopeless, pathetic? How do I look Mother?' Steed asked.  
  
'Well you look.upset' Mother, replied, trying to make him feel like he knew what he was going through.  
  
'Upset, Upset!.Upset is NOT the word!! Angry, resentful, surprised.'  
  
Mother interrupted him. 'Hurt?'  
  
Steed looked up at him, his eyes hiding the tears that tried to escape, he rose and barged his way past Mother, to get to the liquor table.  
  
He noticed there was no Brandy left, and lifted the glass, and banged it back on the silver tray.  
  
'I think you've had enough', Mother said, looking at the broken glass pieces that lay scattered on the floor. Steed angrily said, 'And what would you know about it!?'  
  
'I know how much you cared about her' Mother replied.  
  
'Oh, you do now do you?' Steed still had his voice raised.  
  
'I think you need sometime alone, to let things sink in, take your mind off it, Eh?' Mother said to Steed trying to help.  
  
'And you think that will help do you, just sometime in the sun? And I suppose when you sent, Miss King over, you thought I'd just carry on as if nothing had happened, go back to work and it would all be over! Well you thought wrong Mother!! For once Mother doesn't always no what's best!!' Steed managed to furiously shout out at Mother's judgement of Mrs Peel's departure.  
  
'I'm sorry Steed.I didn't think. I thought, well, I.'.  
  
Mother frustratingly tried to think of something to reply to his outburst, but looked at his hurt eyes, and saw what state he was in over Mrs Peel. In a way he couldn't find anything to reassure him it would be ok, that it was for the best. But Mother had known of their relationship, knew what they had felt for each other, but he genuinely thought to get Steed back into his job, as quickly as he thought he could, to take his mind from it altogether would help.  
  
Unfortunately during this time he was thinking. Steed was searching hurriedly for something to drink. He found a bottle of Malt Scottish Whisky, and tearing his way at the bottle top, he managed to pour himself a very large double Scotch. He gulped the contents down urgently, allowing the strong alcohol to take effect on his throbbing conscience.  
  
Mother said 'It was wrong of me to make judgement of the situation, Steed, I'm sorry.But it was a bit of a surprise!'  
  
'A SURPRISE! TO YOU! What do you think it's done to ME!!' Steed replied in a rather heated tone of voice.  
  
'We had no idea he would be found, let alone alive!!' Mother announced.  
  
'Of all the contacts I have, you'd think.you'd think that at least one of them would let me know!! I found out in the bloody newspapers For God's sake!!' Steed's temper rose again.  
  
'Steed, we had no idea either. They had it kept very secret, and. and even Mrs Peel herself didn't find out until the morning he flew in.' Mother confessed. 'They had him in the local hospital, to recover, for about three weeks, after one of the local tribes had found him. Until they were finally allowed to send him over.' Mother answered.  
  
'So Mrs Peel was kept in the dark too! So they were going to let him barge in on us. In the act as they say?' Steed answered.  
  
'We wouldn't be so.' Mother weakly put it.  
  
'What Mother? Thought-less?' Rather dryly Steed added.  
  
'No, inconsiderate!' Mother responded.  
  
'For him to find out that his wife had been playing away, with one of the Ministry's spies. It would have destroyed her own career as well as mine!!' Steed angrily said.  
  
'Well it's all over, in the past, there's nothing you can do about it now' Mother blatantly said.  
  
Steed's eyes narrowed, and pointed his index finger at Mother saying, 'Yes, and you made DAM sure that I couldn't do anything about it didn't you Mother!!' Steed's voice echoed with emotion and outrage.  
  
Steed poured himself another Whisky, combing his dark hair back with his fingers, and paced the floor of his apartment. Mother just watched him walk, saw him torturing himself, trying to hide his feelings for Mrs Peel inside, and to wash them away with alcohol. He gulped the reddish, potent liquid down, and headed back towards the silver liquor tray.  
  
He slammed the glass down, and turned to Mother.  
  
Tears formed in his eyes as he said  
  
'She was the one. The only one, don't you understand that?'  
  
Mother looked into his warn, tired, heartfelt grey eyes.  
  
'I think I should go' Mother gently replied.  
  
There was a long silence while Mother was making his way out of his apartment.   
  
Then Steed enquired saying, 'And that leave of absence you mentioned?'  
  
'Take as long as you want to Steed' Mother said sympathetically.  
  
'You bet I will!' Steed answered readily.  
  
And with that Mother left.  
  
Steed paced his carpeted floor once again, thinking about her. How much he wanted to be with her right at this moment. How much he wanted to feel her close to him, her hair between his fingertips, her mouth on his own. He wanted her so badly, but he knew that he would never see or feel her again. Tears were slowly, streaming down his pale face. He felt his stomach churn, and his hands trembled, he lifted his hand to his forehead, spread his stretched fingers over his face as he wiped away his tears. He made his way to the drinks tray, again, lifted the Whisky bottle poured another, but this time he did not bring the glass to his lips. He watched the liquid in the glass, swirled the reddish brown medication he required around in its container and remembered her hair, her face, smile, voice, everything, her laughter filled his mind. He thought to himself, memories are all he had to remember her by, photographs helped him remember, brought back images, moments in his memory, moments he could simply not forget. They had shared so much together, now she was gone, nothing could bring her back, he knew that, but didn't want to reflect the pain. He simply looked at the Whisky and remembered, didn't move just stared at it. Then with one last motion of his body, he lifted the glass to his lips, and toasted it to her.  
  
'To you Emma'.  
  
Tears filled in his eyes, as the warmness soothed his aching heart, and with that he knew that she would always be with him where ever he was, deeply, imbedded in heart, his mind, and body, as if the Whisky was her, and was seeping into himself. Her words circled his mind, 'Always keep your bowler on in times of strain. And watch out for Diabolical Masterminds!'  
  
He stood there for a long time, just thinking of her. He seemed contented as if a weight had been lifted off his heart, and he walked up the twisting staircase to rest. It was either the Drink, or the thought of her, but he soon drifted off to sleep. 


End file.
